Lessons
by Nomi-clawskull
Summary: UPDATED A continuation of ALWLeroux Phantom, Ten years after Christine leaves with Raoul, Erik still pines for her, and gets a chance to get close to her once again, her daughter eventual EC hinting. PG for slightly naughty word. Please Read & Review!
1. A strange providence of fate

**Author's Note:** this is my first Phantom fic, and it was written out on paper prior to upload, so the first updates should be fast. But since I go back to school in a week, I can't guarantee that. but what the hey, you're here for the fic not me! this phic is dedicated to BlueBeauty, who is the established Queen of this section with her lovely _Phantom's Mask_, and _The Rose and the Mask,_ I hope this can live up to her standard. I know it's short, but bear with me please....

**A/N addendum:** (this is the Beta of chapter one, I messed with the format, and added some more informative and stylish writing. Hopefully a change for the better)

_**"Think of me, think of me fondly when we've said goodbye,..........."**_

**Lessons**, (for lack of a better name(yes I need input))

**chapter one:**

_The lair under the opera, ten years have passed since the disastrous gala opening of "Don _

_Juan Triumphant_"

My, how much time had passed since Erik last saw Christine, years, a decade? Time was

irrelevant in his lair of darkness. How many hours had he spent re-playing his actions, cursing

himself, his fearful visage, and his lost beloved's lover? Raoul had had everything Erik ever

desired, and the only thing Erik had to comfort himself with was his now-defunct "Don Juan"

A masterpiece he had written to be sung on the day he carried away his bride, the prelude to his

greatest triumph of all...

Don Juan, Erik was not, but his seductive voice had made a dream nearly come true, save

for that damnable fop Raoul de Changy! Erik saw in Raoul a brainless youth whose looks had

taken his Christine from him. To Erik, all the injustice and prejudice of the world were

caricatured in Raoul, the good-looking, yet mentally sub-standard boy who could have had any

woman he wanted, but chose to save Christine from a life with Erik, _le monstre. _

When Erik read a Parisian paper, he made certain to burn any part

of the clippings which mentioned Raoul, but slowly he cut and saved all mention

of Christine, now _le Vicomtess_. After so long, his love for her still smoldered in his pale chest.

He yearned to be around her, to see her, hear her sing, he wanted that more than anything, he

was content to see her in a non-amorous nature, if that was what it took. He followed her in a

Gatsby-esque manner of newspaper clipping, he watched in newsprint her every motion. The

huge extravagant wedding, their home at the Changy estate, and finally, the hardest blow of all,

the birth of Aurora, the daughter that should have been his. She looked so much like her mother,

with golden-brown tresses and bright, inquisitive blue eyes, eyes that charmed adult and child

alike. However, she had Raoul's detestable aristocratic flair. She was not the free spirit her

mother had been, but rather a caged bird, having always enjoyed the doting of her maids and

parents.

As she approached the age of ten, Erik wondered at the child's naïveté as he watched her. She

had the makings of her mother's vocal talent, if only she had been his, she would have been the

best, the Prima Donna of all Prima Donnas, to be "La Aurora" and had monuments in her honor.

He hated to see her talent lie untapped, as her mother's had. For many years, in fact, since that

fop had stolen her heart, his angel had ceased to sing. Erik had nearly killed himself in his misery,

he had let her go, allowed her to leave with him, and he despaired in hearing the swish of the

boat on the water, he had twisted the ring on his finger, the ring she returned, and sighed as

he heard their voices across the lake. All his teachings, his soul of musical talent, had been

wasted on her; it had preyed on his mind ever since, even upon that very evening, an evening

that ended an extraordinary day. A day that would have otherwise been calm, quiet, and

uneventful, the day when a fateful note was published in the advertisements of _Le Époque_, the

most prominent and respected paper of all Paris. An advertisement that conveyed a fateful

providence to the despairing Opera Ghost with a simple sentence:

_'Le Vicomte et Mme. de Changy cherche le professeur vocal pour leur fille, Mlle. Aurora de Changy. L'enquête pour la position être faite à leur propriété sur le douzième de mai 1892.'_

'The Vicomte and Madame de Changy seek a vocal tutor for their daughter, mademoiselle Aurora de Changy, inquiry for the position to be made at their estate on the twelfth of May 1892.'

**More A/N: **Liked it? Hated it? tell me, I love reviews, of any kind, and hope to have a hundred some day! If anything is unclear, or I made an error, tell me please.. i can't correct what I don't notice..especially the French, I admit it! I used a translation program! anyway please tell me if I should continue!

your lovely authoress,

Nomi, (and her Erik-Muse)


	2. Even roses have thorns

**A/N:** I swear, yesterday was the slowest day on ever, I had one review, and I posted the only story to update yesterday! there were six on thursday! yeah, anyway, I'm figuring out format today, so I plan on re-loading chappie one, this one is a bit longer, I hope my single reviewer (The awsome _**Keri**_) will like this chapter. And to the rest of you... Review!!

**Lessons,** (for lack of a better name(yes I _still_ need input))

**chapter two:**

_The parlor at the Changy estate, the day following the placement of the advertisement..._

"I still cannot believe you posted an add in the papers!" stormed Raoul, "I was under the

impression that this was a decision we had not yet made! Christine dearest, do you recall your

years at the Opera?! What can music possibly give her that she does not already have?"

For the life of him, the exalted Vicomte could not understand why his wife would wish their

daughter to sing, as song held so many horrors in her own past. So many in fact that Christine

had not sung since their escape from the labyrinth where she had been given her own ethereal

lessons.

"Raoul don't you see? Just because I myself can no longer bring myself to sing, does not justify

my denying my, _our_ daughter the chance to enjoy it as I once did?" Christine's plaintive appeal

was obviously straight from her heart. A heart that had many scars upon it, a heart that no longer

had a reason to sing...

Though Christine loved Raoul, and knew she had had no other choice that night in the lair. She

had lost all desire to sing. For her there was no longer any reason, her father was gone, as well

as her "angel" what was there to sing for? Though she was content to allow Raoul to believe it

was the horror of her past that stopped her singing, it was truly the lack of a person who

appreciated every aspect of her voice, her demeanor, in short, a person like Erik.

She wanted a person like that to teach her daughter, so that Erik's music could live again.

Secretly she hoped to one day perform Erik's masterpiece, _"Don Juan Triumphant" _to honor

the memory of its composer. But she was content with the life she had chosen, and loved her

husband. He just didn't see...

"I'll withdraw the add. If you won't consent Raoul," she conceded, "but I will certainly replace it

with one that does not include your name. It shall read: _"Mme. Christine de Changy (neé Daaé)_

_seeks vocal tutor for her daughter..."_ And that is exactly what she did.

Upon the morning of the twelfth of May, Christine seated herself in the parlor, thoroughly

determined to find a teacher nearly equal to her angel, the angel she told daddy Daae__'s stories of

to her daughter at bedtime. She began by sifting through the calling cards sent to her by

applicants; her eyes played across them and saw several names of her past. M. Reyer, who was

by now quite old and retired from the Opera, as well as several others.

Christine closed her eyes and thought back to her days as a chorus girl, where they sat for

hours, listening to Reyer become exasperated, while drilling Carlotta or the late Piangi in their

lines. So many memories, she thought, absentmindedly placing her ands in her lap, where they

suddenly encountered a thorn. The prick of the thorn made her nearly jump out of her chair, and

when she looked down at the object that the thorn belonged to, she was reminded of a darker

part of that same past.

The dark red rose was tied with a simple black ribbon, no card or name, merely a rose. The

rose was nearly identical to the rose Erik had given her, on a snowy night so long ago. The night

she had thought about so much over the last ten years, and Erik, the tortured genius that had

declared his love for her, that he was willing to kill for her, only to be left alone in that labyrinth,

with his music.

But it couldn't be from him.

_Could it?_

Christine dropped the rose as if it were aflame.

"What is it mommy?" asked Aurora, for her mother rarely lost her composure in such a way.

"Nothing darling, I merely pricked my finger on the lovely rose." Christine replied.

Aurora seemed to think for a moment, then, upon finding a proper response she said, "Maman,

it is wise to remember that even the most beautiful rose has its thorns." Let it be assumed that

she did not know how closely her mother's thoughts ran to that statement. For indeed, Christine

was thinking of many things, many wishes, and so many disappointments of the last ten years,

and of the angel who wore a mask...

**More A/N:** Like it? hate it? please tell me! I need review input to motivate me to finish the story! and to those of you who read chapter one yesterday, please look it over again, cause I fixed it up and re-formatted But review this time (except for Keri)

**Review replies:** (only one)

_**Keri** Thanks for reviewing my story! and glad to hear you love Erik. That makes two of us!. Keep up the good review work, and please feel free to tell me if you find something amiss_

_Your Obedient friend_ (and lovely authoress)

Nomi (and her Erik muse)


	3. Notes, or 'The Applicant'

**Author's Note:** Yay! finally I post the third chapter! I now have four really cool reviewers, (only 96 to go!) and I am really sorry this took so long to post, I had my first week of senior year, and then broke my right pinky finger in a car- door incident (one handed typing really sucks) so I needed more time to type this up. Please don't hate me! Also want to note that I got a review from **_BlueBeauty_**, the writer this fic is dedicated to, Awsomeness!..anyway, to the story...

**Lessons, **( for lack of a better name(_still_ need input))

**chapter three:**

****

_The lair below L'Opéra Populaire, the morning of the Twelfth of May......_

Erik knew he should not have sent the rose. Damning his imagination for involving him in

another of his foolish plots, he thought for a moment about his ever-present sense of the

dramatic, the rose was a part of that. Unfortunately, he also could not think of a

better way of announcing his interest, it did not have the flash of appearing behind a mirror,

but it was still elegantly done. On this thought, he sat at a desk in the Louis-Philippe room,

and penned one of his infamous 'notes' in his easily recognizable untidy scrawl; omitting,

however, the use of blood red 'ink' in favor of less shocking black:

_My dear Madame de Chagny,_

_It gives me the greatest pleasure to offer my services as a vocal tutor to your beautiful_

_daughter. I regret my inability to keep your date for interviews in person. However, as_

_you are well aware, there is a complication which renders me unable to call upon you. Please_

_accept my apologies, and send a return post by way of Nadir, stating your intentions for_

_your daughter's schooling. Until such a time, I remain_

_Your obedient friend, and former Angel._

_O.G._

He hoped with all his heart that even if she had forsaken him herself, she would consider him

a worthy teacher for her lovely daughter....

It took Christine most of the morning to recover from her shock at receiving the rose. This jolt

from her past was quite unexpected and she sat in grim expectation of a disaster. She had to

mentally will herself to get out of the chair she had sunk into upon receiving the flower, and

greet the applicants. By her estimate there were thirty well-qualified people in the parlor,

all had the proper credentials, but something in her mind, (or was it her heart?) told her that

there was only one worthy teacher. She was once again surprised to find a familiar Persian

among the throng, holding a sickeningly familiar-looking note. Upon noticing the familiar

untidy scrawl, she berated herself for expecting Erik to come see her in public. Once again

she found herself thinking of the past: that night in his underground home, and her earlier

wishes to find an equal to Erik. Earlier it had seemed so innocent to wish for him, but now

her childlike attitude had once again led her to the point when her fanciful dreams became

horribly, awfully, real, and the dreadful reality shattered her dream-like thoughts of the last

few days. How could she not accept the offer, he was the best candidate, but her mind

dwelled on his short temper, his deformity, in her naiveté she had seen both, a sight which

made her flee him once. Could she really send her daughter into the same situation she had

faced at l'opéra?

Christine shrugged off the awful thoughts that plagued her, and resolved to think on the matter

at another time, she simply could not bear another moment of the dangerous implications

her mind was making. "Aurora darling?" she called, "Are you interested in visiting

grandpère's grave with me dear child?" A journey to Perros would help her to see what

to do; her father's presence always soothed and calmed her, and made her decisions at least

more bearable, if not truly easier.

Several hours later, as the departure to Perros-Guirec drew nearer, Christine finished

packing her things, and her daughter's as well; "What will Raoul say?" She thought to herself,

inwardly she knew that she had to visit her father, and that Raoul would try very hard to stop

her. The last time she had gone alone to Perros, she had been nearly ensnared by Erik, and

she knew her husband only meant to protect her by keeping her near. Raoul's protective

instincts had saved her before, but what she needed now, was not something he could

provide, she needed solace, and time to think....

Aurora de Chagny contemplated her mother's strange behavior as she rode in the train

compartment, a visit to grandpère Daaé meant Mother had something really important to

decide. Her mother's reaction to a rose, and that strange note in the childish hand, told Aurora

that something had happened that reminded her mother of the past. Usually, when Mother was

in such a state, Aurora heard lovely bedtime stories, stories of angels, music, and Mother's

time at l'Opéra Populaire. These stories were her favorites, full of adventures and rivalries,

singing and dancing. However they seemed to cause Mother great sorrow and she became

despondent after relating the tales. What could Mother possibly have to decide that involved

her past, and Aurora? The bright and inquisitive child wondered silently, as the train sped ever

northward, towards the grave of her maternal grandparent.....

When Raoul returned home that evening, he found a note waiting for him on the calling tray:

"_Dearest Raoul, _

_I have taken our daughter with me to visit my father's grave, we will return to town on or_

_about the 18th of this month. Until then, dearest, keep the home fire for our return._

_Love, and sincere apologies for not telling you myself,_

_Christine"_

He swore silently to himself, and prayed that they would return safely to him. Recalling the

incident of his past, when Christine was drawn to music from the grave, and nearly lost to him,

he soon decided that prayer was not enough. He had to hasten after his beloved wife and child,

for the danger was too great, he could not lose one of them, let alone both, to the clutches of

the scoundrel Erik.

**A/N:** Liked it? hated it? Please tell me! _Review_, its the little purple button in the left hand corner of your screen. Press it and tell me what you think! Reviewer comments keep me motivated, so I need as many as I can get!

**Review-replies:** (Three this time!)

_**AuronLives -**_ _you really think it's ok? I try not to Raoul bash, cause i like him, which makes e/c more tolerable for you I bet._

_**BlueBeauty -** Thanks for taking the time to review my story, even though i kind ofd pushed it in the review... and also thanks for the inspiration, you rock! _

_**Olivia -** Don't worry. I don't plan on leaving you all hanging, I just like to threaten to get reviews ( I still want more) reviews make me happy and feel noticed and appreciated, even if I had to extort them from people, and don't worry, the story will continue to develop nicely, unless my muse disappears.._

**A/N Addendum:** my finger hurts! so I hope its enjoyable enough for you that it's worth the pain in it for me...


End file.
